


Done

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor’s lost in the end.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Kudos: 58





	Done

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s over.

His original mission. The new one he gave himself. All the little objectives along the way—Connor’s gone full-on _deviant_ , and it’s too late to go back. The revolution’s won; things will still be hard, there’s so much more work to do, but that’s for diplomats and leaders—Connor’s just built to be a cop. He’s left in the wake of that hurricane with a strange emptiness and only one clue on how to fill it. 

Marcus says he can stay with ‘Jericho’—a sunken ship but an _idea_ , a people; they say they’ll rebuild their home, and Connor’s welcome to it. It feels so strange to Connor that he spent so much time _hunting them all down_ and watched several of their friends die, yet they just welcome him in with open arms. He recognizes half a dozen faces, and he knows that when it comes to his parts, he’s the same as them. But they feel like strangers. 

Connor leaves. He helps the cleanup process, detached. He meets a friend at an old snow-covered spot, but after that friend’s driven off, he’s alone again, in a largely decimated city that’s barely recognizable. Connor has nowhere to go. 

There’s only one place where it feels like he _should_ go, so he does. The busses aren’t running anymore, and there’s no word when they’ll be reinstated. Connor walks. It’s a long way with too much snow to trudge through, but Connor’s built to last and manages. By the time he’s knocking on a familiar door, he’s not panting or sweating, but emotionally, he’s tired. 

He still smiles, full of tentative hope, when the door opens. A free range of emotions isn’t always a good thing—it’s nerve wracking. He’s still getting used to the sensation of _nerves_. Connor opens his mouth, and Hank says, “You broke my window.”

Connor’s smile abruptly dies into a frown. He explains, “I thought you were hurt.”

Hank snorts. He was drunk at the time, passed out, and there was no way to know if he’d be okay without getting inside as fast as possible. Hank mutters, “With everything going on, I never got a chance to yell at you about that.” Hank’s not yelling now. But Connor braces himself for it. 

Instead, Hank adds, “You’re free.”

It’s ironic. For the first time in his existence, Connor doesn’t have a grid around him, telling him where to go. He just feels lost without that. He admits, “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Hank opens his mouth. Maybe he’s going to suggest the other androids. But instead he sighs and asks, “Do you want to stay here?” All the initial malice laced into their first meeting is gone. Connor hears the subtext in the invitation—it’s not begrudging, and there’s no time limit. Hank’s offering what Connor needs: _a home_.

Connor says, “Yes, please.”

Hank snorts again and grins. He steps aside, and Connor wanders into the warmth of his front room. Sumo wanders over to brush against Connor’s legs, pleading to be pet. Connor bends down to oblige. 

When he straightens up again, Hank’s waiting, and Connor’s chest swells with relief: he’s found his new purpose.


End file.
